


A Dubious Prize: Dinner at the Wayne Manor

by ghostmittens (bootshivers)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootshivers/pseuds/ghostmittens
Summary: After having won a raffle prize of dinner with the famous Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma finds himself in the illustrious Wayne Manor, unsure of what he'll find beyond the gates.





	A Dubious Prize: Dinner at the Wayne Manor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a transcript of a roleplay formatted into narrative, concerning the interactions of the tumblr askblogs http://riddlesandqueries.tumblr.com and http:waynecorp-incorporate.tumblr.com following the events of the Summer Gala. It is not mandatory to follow these blogs or read into backstory on them to enjoy this work as a standalone: no need to feel concerned with circumstances leading to this. Co-written with Ink, who has no account. you could say he's...no-account.

The path up the cliff to Wayne Manor was long, slightly winding, but ultimately a comfortable ride: Edward watches, from the back window, as he was chaperoned to the door. He didn’t want a valet, particularly, but as long as one was being thrust upon him, he could enjoy the scenery. Idly, he wonders if there was a hiking trail, having spotted areas with worn grass, and then adjusts his tie purely out of bored habit. Dinner with the billionaire playboy wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped to win: a spa day would have been much better, at least to avoid some of the wretched, overbearing scrutiny of being monitored. But, a night out was a night out, and he wouldn’t complain further than that. The driver steps out: a grim and burly gentleman, decorated beneath the suit he’d been stuffed into, and holds the door open for Edward to leave.

“You got ‘til midnight, Cinderella, and then the carriage is haulin’ you home.”

“Of course, Mongo. Don’t mind me, I’ll just keep my glass slippers by the door.” Edward sneers, meandering to the door and knocking.

He is greeted by Bruce himself, rather than a servant, or a butler, or… He’s dressed up for the occasion, somewhat - not to the same degree as the gala, but the man wears a suit. Brown, rather than black, with a teal shirt. Honestly…? It suits him. “Mister Nygma,” he smiles, and offers out his hands to shake, much as he did when greeting various guests to the Gala some week hence. “The ride was all right? I know traffic this time of night isn’t the best - come in, come in. The dining room’s been set up, and I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, so…You have a few choices.”

Upon Bruce’s greeting, the driver smoothly pulls away. Five hours. Edward shook his hand obligingly, and smiles. “Nice to see you again, Mr Wayne…I appreciate your time this evening.” he says, as he steps through into the house with a curious glance around. “It was an easy drive: do you have hiking trails along on your property?” He’ll follow where he’s led, but first, he aimed to take in every single thing he can see. People covet this sort of opportunity: why not see what the fuss is about?

“Yes! You saw those?” Bruce laughs softly, leading Edward through cavernous halls to an equally cavernous dining room with two table settings; neither of these sits at the head of the long table. It’s a… large, empty, unattended house with out-of-date decor and a vaguely museum-like feel to it. “The cliffs around here are great for rock climbing, I head out whenever I have a spare moment…”

He takes one of the seats, and pulls out the chair beside him for Edward, without ceremony. “Please, have a seat, Alfred will be bringing around a list of what’s make-able in a minute.”

“I did, yes. Spots where the grass is flatter and naturally trimmed.” Edward comments, meandering along. He realizes that he probably looks like a tourist, gawking, but opportunity didn’t strike easy. ...or at least, he would, if there was anything worth looking at. It was too...singular, like a mausoleum dedicated to the past. He had the distinct feeling of being at his grandmother’s as a child, where the furniture was in plastic, and never to be sat upon. Seen, not interacted with. He kept his gaze ahead, settling on that conclusion, and took the seat he was offered. “Thank you.”

Bruce gestures a bit, as Alfred comes around with a list of potential meals. He already knows, Master Bruce, that you want tortellini, don’t you worry. Alfred is given a warm smile, at that. And murmured thanks. “Since you’re here - and I am surprised you bet on this, by the way, but - while you’re here, I thought you’d like the chance to watch the missing Episode?”

“Missing episode of what?” Edward asks, reviewing the menu. Any top pics, suggestions? He glances to Alfred. “Ah, what do you prefer, sir?”

“I am particularly confident in my ability to sear a steak perfectly, sir.” Alfred comments, eyeing Bruce somewhat in some shared inside joke. His eyes are amused, Bruce rolls his eyes back, and grins. “He’s not wrong. You should take him up on that - and the Grey Ghost, I meant. I have the director’s reel of the unaired finale.” “If… if you wanted. I could give you a tour, too, or….”

"The steak, then...onions and mushrooms, please, medium rare, ride of greens. Thank you.” Edward states, neatly passing back the menu. “Alfred, correct?” At the nod of affirmation, he looks back to Bruce. “A brief tour sounds nice...but after that, I confess, the lost episode sounds much more tempting. While I like interior design well enough, there’s only so long anyone wants to make a presentation about the drapes, hm?”

Bruce’s chuckle is sheepish but honest, and he leans back on the table. “There’s a few places in the house worth seeing, but… yeah. Most of it’s art.” “Which is… fine. Important, probably, I just like the gadgets and things I’ve got more….” Probably why he runs a tech company, come to think of it. “But yeah, absolutely, we can watch. Ah… if I’m honest. I’m glad you won.” His chuckle is wan, but honest, as salads are brought in for them both.

“Glad I won?” Edward says, murmuring thanks to Alfred as he’s served. “I have to admit, that’s hardly something I’d have assumed anyone in your standing would say about having a known thief in his house...wouldn’t it be safer to honor the promise to some starlet?”

“Well…” Bruce rubs behind his neck, chuckling. “Probably. But they’re not very good conversation, and they always seem so _bored_ when they get here. Besides, they’re so young, and… I don’t know, the whole thing feels uncomfortable. I don’t know how to handle them.” He softly sighs. “I’d rather have someone interesting. Why _did_ you bet on this?”

“If you really want to know the truth, it’s because I put a bid into the green bag. I was really more interested in the spa day: I haven’t tried one before, and it seemed like a worthwhile cause in the silent auction.” Edward replies, sampling his salad. Mm. Good vinaigrette. “As for bored starlets, take them somewhere else, if they don’t like your house, and let them find something else that dazzles them: if dinner with you isn’t just enough, then you’re both wasting your time.”

“I know I’m wasting my time, Mister Nygma. But they won, I’m not going to tell them they’re not entitled to what they spent….” Bruce chuckles, before pausing. Oh. “...I don’t sleep with them.” He explains, in the tired tone of someone who’s had to have this conversation a few dozen times. “They come by, they get dinner, they get a tour, they get my undivided attention for a couple hours, they get a guest room.” Soft sigh, into his salad. That’s even reached the rogues? Jeez…..

“...who even mentioned sex?” Edward sneers, nose wrinkling over his salad. “I meant in general, gracious. They didn’t include anything about that on the invitation; is that _expected_?”

“It shouldn’t be, but I have a reputation.” Bruce replies, if sourly. “Billionaire Playboy. I… sorry.” He sighs again, sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. Awkwardly, he settles into his salad for a bit, picking: the very picture of an easily flustered nerd. “..I’m glad you won.” He reiterates. “It was fun to talk to you. I was hoping to speak more. Yeees, I know you’re a thief, but - well, Selina’s been here a couple times, it’s not like there’s no… precedent.”

Slowly, Edward arches his brow, looking at Bruce curiously. “You’ve had Selina over?” It wasn’t as if she was compulsive, but it took a lot of trust to have her over a few times when you weren’t in the rogue trade...unless he was..? “...well, I appreciate your trust in my ability to keep my manners in check while I visit, both to your possessions and your person.”

“Er… yes. I’ve also seen her place a few times.” _You have a way of making a man feel like he’s under a microscope, you really do, Edward_. Shaking his head to clear the feeling, Bruce focuses on his plate in earnest; particularly since it’s going to be taken away, soon. “You didn’t make a fuss at the Gala.” He shrugs a bit. “...And I liked talking to you. I don’t think you’d warn me against you if you were planning something - I hope, anyway.” he adds, voice tapering to a mumble. “So - yeah, no, you’re welcome to come visit, Mister Nygma.”

“I’d have left a riddle,” he confesses, setting aside his salad plate. “What’s the point of being a career criminal if you don’t have a calling card? We thrive on the notoriety...besides, making a fuss over a celebrity, as a fellow celebrity? That’s simply jejune: why not state the obvious, as long as you’re making a fuss over the unimportant?”

Alfred does come to collect the plates, and leave behind slim lemon wafers as palate cleansers. Bruce pops his into his mouth without second thought. “Well… I appreciate that, too. Yeah, of everyone, you know what kind of things a camera being trained on you can do to your ability to relax, I imagine…What got you into Grey Ghost?”

Edward samples the lemon for a moment, but only enjoys the juice: the pulp and zest is left as remainder. “Being eight, loving mysteries, and having my first viable excuse to stay up past my bedtime.” he grins, sipping his water briefly. “My parents would watch it with me: it was a lot of fun as a family event, even when Mom thought it was too violent and had me cover my eyes. I usually figured them out before the ending, anyway.”

Bruce smiles broadly. “I used to watch with my dad. I have the whole hat and cape around here somewhere, actually - he helped me make it," he chuckles. “So, ah…I completely understand, yes.” Bruce smiles, wistfully. “You know, I used to want to be a private eye because of that show? I thought it’d have been great fun to run around, and solve mysteries.”

"What changed your mind?" asks Edward, taking another sip of water. There's the obvious answer all around them, but why not give the man a chance to speak his peace? If people came over expecting a wine and dine, who knew what kind of generic drivel they expected him to regurgitate.

“...Honestly?” Bruce leans back as dinner is brought around; tortellini with a light, thin sauce and meat and vegetables making up for the bulk of flavor amid the pasta, steak to order for Edward. “I haven’t. I still think that would be fun, I just…. Don’t really have time. Which is a shame.” he grins, if faintly. “But I can still watch the show whenever I like, and enjoy it vicariously, I suppose.”

Edward gave his thanks for the steak, and began distributing the trimmings evenly across the meat before cutting. "Now that the original series was found and released on DVD, I should grab a copy. It's a miracle that they made it, given the studio fire back in the day. We're lucky that Mr Trent had them."

“Yeah. He’s great, honestly, I got to meet him once. I’m glad he’s doing better these days, he wasn’t in the best spot at the time…” ….Best to leave that there, Bruce considers, and he turns his attention to his pasta, pensive. “...So who was that, man who drove you up? It looked like a government car, almost.”

"My current employer. Things like that are part of my parole agreement: I'm only escorted places, not free to drive just yet." Edward sounds terribly bored with that prospect: it's clearly not a mark of status, in his eyes, to be carted around at someone else's whimsy. "I doubt they'd have given me clearance to come out on a work night if it weren't on your behalf, so I appreciate the evening away from my desk."

Ah… Bruce tilts his head in thought, nodding. “Yeah, I get that. I’m sorry you’re stuck like that, Mr. Nygma.” He frowns, and hums, softly. “What is your usual day off? You mentioned you’d been hoping for the spa weekend, and - well, I don’t know about a full two days, but there’s no reason I can’t treat you.”

“Weekends, actually...surprising, isn’t it? And I still get lunch break.” he laughs. “Even if I work largely from home.” He’s visibly impressed by his steak, and takes a moment to just...enjoy it. Spicing, flavour profiles... _Delicious_. “Alfred made this?”

“Yeah.” Brightly, enthusiastic. “He’s a fantastic cook - he’s teaching me to cook, actually. I’m slowly making way through his wheelhouse of recipes…And he helps me plan menus for the fancy party finger food. You can thank him for the sneaky pizza, that was his doing.” Bruce grins. “I just haven’t had pasta in ages, or I’d be eating a steak too…”

Edward grins a bit as well, slowly enjoying a particularly good bite before continuing. “I have to say, it’s admirable to see someone learning a skill so happily.” Especially in Mr Wayne’s tax bracket, where most would be paying someone else to do it. “What’s something you’ve always meant to learn?”

“I’d been putting off ballet for years, but I finally picked that up…” Bruce hums. “I’d like to know more about what the techs I employ do, but it seems like every time I get time to check in and actually talk about that, the job description’s changed. Eternally impressed with that, but it doesn’t make it easy to try and actually understand the fine details about…. Anything.”

“Ballet? Already have ballroom and samba down, hm?” Edward chuckles. “I hear it’s great exercise, so I wish you the best...and it’s bound to be easier than sifting out the technicalities of bureaucracy. Have you tried getting some random inspectors with imaginary rank through to check for quality control? They can write down the actual hierarchy.”

“Ballroom and swing, actually...And - that’s not half bad an idea? Honestly?” Thinking on that, Bruce softly hums, sopping up sauce with a piece of bread. “Get an idea of who’s assigning projects and who I can reach out to for a bit of better background knowledge…I mean, if people are going to ask me about work, I’d rather talk about what we’re doing, not the meetings I’ve been to lately. Sales numbers are boring, the future of technology is… is far more interesting, y’know?”

“Oh, most assuredly. Technology is the cornerstone of human evolution: why _wouldn’t_ that be the most interesting thing to talk about?” Edward laughs, clearing his palate. Perfect portioning on the plate: it was just enough, which was as good as a feast for him. “The forefront of progress and innovation, better ways to understand and interact with the world, to finesse what we do...it’s magnificent, when done correctly.”

Bruce smiles. He… relaxes, a bit. His shoulders are far less tense now than they were at Edward’s arrival, or the Gala. _Oh. You get it. **That’s wonderful.**_ “Exactly,” he agrees, popping the sopping bread into his mouth to chew. “No one wants to hear about sales projections. I don’t even want to hear about sales projections.” Bruce laughs. “But… seeing the new things R&D are up to always makes my day.” His tone is one of admiration, really.

Edward took a bitter sip of his water. Sales projections. The art of the deal, the closing of briefcases of money over yet another ruined life crushed under the jackboot of capitalism. "What are they up to these days, anyway?”

"R&D is currently working on new improvements to home life - things like thermometer-controlled showers, and a computer to keep track of freshness in the fridge.” “Trying to work out the kinks of a new invention that lets you hook devices up to one another wirelessly without the internet… You’ve probably heard of it, come to think of it...Bluetooth? Released a couple weeks ago? Not publicly, yet, but...”

"Oh yes~!" Edward perks up, gloom dissipating immediately. "I've read a lot about it, actually: it's a wonderful idea. Just wait until we can all be online regardless of where we are. The accessibility of information worldwide, it's going to be incredible!"

...Aw, he’s cute when he gets excited. Bruce smiles too, chuckling as Alfred comes to take their plates away, and lingers.  
  
"Will you be wanting dessert, Master Bruce?"

“Ah… have room for anything sweet? Or do you want the tour? I’ve got a couple of the new inventions in the house, actually…!” He seems excited by the prospect of showing those off, at least. They can always have fruit over the course of television, right?

"Oh! Uh." Edward's proverbial gears shift and settle. "If it's no trouble, I'd like the tour first, just to let the meal settle down." he decides, sitting upright. "Enjoy the aftertaste."

“None are quite as exciting as Bluetooth.” Bruce admits, rising and patting Alfred’s shoulder in a positively familial way. "Thank you, Alfred, we’re good for now.... But I’ve got a couple neat quality of life things around here! And a new computer set to release in the new year… We’re working on an Operating System, too in case we, er. Need one. The beta for that’s loaded on it. It’s… more complicated than I can really explain, but it definitely looks cool.”

Onward to the tech display: he’s got them everywhere. Cutting edge! Brand new inventions! The sorts of things that’ll make life easier and gentler on the people living it. Lots of things have disabled applications too, leading towards a more independently navigable lifestyle. He’s really, really proud of these, Edward. He rambles about them a bit, excited like kids with new toys.

Edward is as giddy as a kid in a toy store: he interacts with as much as possible, as hands-on as possible,but usually catches himself before he begins trying to take anything apart. At the computer to be released, however, he pauses. "...you know, I could make sure that it'll survive the turn of the millennium." he offers.

_That’s really cute, how excited he is._ Bruce finds himself smiling brighter for the company, and - he’s allowed to touch anything he wants, just, please don’t break it I do not know how to put anything back together. He is pretty well versed in all the positive implications of these types of things becoming widely available, though. He’s excited about that, too. “... Ah… I don’t want to make you work while you’re here, Edward.” He rubs the back of his neck. “...Mister - sorry, Mister Nygma. You said yourself you don’t get much chance to relax but - I appreciate the offer? Some, other time maybe?”

_...Ah._ Yes, that was fair...he was, after all, a rogue: what regular citizen would trust him with a prototype, especially one presumed to survive the incoming doomsday? Edward could only imagine what Bruce thought he might do with it: run a program to electronically copy all of its functions into a database for blackmail or seizure of funds, drain the coffers into an offshore account...all manner of things. Edward raised a hand with a wave of dismissal. "Of course, never mind." he smiles politely. "Don't want to wreck it or anything."

“ _I’m_ more likely to ruin it than you are, honestly.” Bruce chuckles softly, unaware of the presumed motive behind his actions. “If you want a look at it, I don’t mind? I just feel bad making you work. ...Honestly? I’m curious if the tech guys were heading in the right direction. I know what it’s supposed to do, but I don’t know enough to - you know - see if it’ll work. So - another time? I mean, you can always visit again, I don’t mind. Nice to have company.”

"I really don't mind: there's a difference between offering and obligation. But why not leave it to rest for the night, hm? I recall that you mentioned The Grey Ghost's lost episode."

Bruce gave a bright smile to that, and he gestures back towards the library - there was plenty in there to see, but now they need access to his collection. “Lost episode, and anything else you want to watch, really. I have all of them.” he offers with a soft laugh. There are couches, in front of the TV, and an entire shelf dedicated to his video collection, in here. They’re in order. He falls silent, to pick through.

Edward returns to his silent observation as Bruce chooses his video. Good filing system, he notes in approval, and he finds a place on the couch that he likes. Good distance from the screen and projector, nice angle for the neck.

On! And he turns to find Edward in _his_ seat, chuckles, and diverts to a cushion down or so, grinning to himself. “It’s not perfect.” He explains, as it goes through the rewinding buffer prior to the title screen. “But it ties things up nicely, I think.” 

It's a rare treat, to see the lost episode: as soon as it was on, Edward settles down to watch, rapt. Once something grabbed his attention properly, it wasn't easily dropped. As the show ended, however, he perks up with a grin. "That was fantastic!"

Bruce beams at his guest's delight: Oh, that was what he had been hoping for, really! A perfect response. Bruce’s grin is broad, honest, and enthusiastic in Edward’s direction. Seriously, he’s so cute when he’s pleased. C _areful, Bruce,_ murmurs a voice in the back of his head, which he ignores. “It’s perfect, all things considered. The best send off I could’ve asked for, it’s just a shame it never made it on air.” His smile is fond. Wistful, even. “Packs more of a punch after a marathon, mind, but I don’t think we have enough time for _all_ of it, sadly.” he chuckles to himself.

"No...not tonight, I'm sorry to say." says Edward, checking his wristwatch with a slight frown. "But it was certainly a long-wanted conclusion: I just can't stand it when things are left unfinished, you know? Why play a sonata but leave off the last note? It's terrible: keeps itching at the mind."

“..What do you think about the reboot they’re talking about?” Bruce cants his head at Edward, finding that he’d… really like to keep him talking, if he could. “I’m personally thrilled they’re getting the funding, apparently, but I wonder if Trent is part of the production….” 

"As with any reproduction, I find it's important to be broad in expectation." Edward states, relaxing back to face Bruce. "Nostalgia's a powerful drug, after all: it'll never be what I loved when I was eight, and that's fine, because it shouldn't be. It's not going to be made for my view in the audience, more than likely. That said, if they don't have Trent involved in it, my confidence will not be too high. How else can you preserve the spirit of the show if he's not?"

“Does sort of exorcise the original tone, yeah.” Bruce grins a bit, wider on the right side. Giver of crooked grins and poor attempts at puns. He’s, he’s trying, okay? “...I hope it’s good. I should ask Trent if he’s involved.” he mumbles.

Edward snorts, despite himself. That was _terrible_ , but at least he picked up what was dropped...better than a lot of people usually managed. “...Wait, you know Simon Trent?” he frowns, looking over, eyes widening.

“Oh, ah - yeah, we met ages ago, I helped refund the studio enough to get Trent out of a hard spot.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Really nice guy. We don’t, you know talk regularly but… I know him well enough to ask? About the reboot? ...He’d probably be touched to know people care.”

Edward considers Bruce for a long moment, fingers laced around one of his knees, thumbs pressing together as his mind tinkered. Touched? Perhaps from someone else, but what could a pseudonym hurt in sending a card? “I suppose you’d know better than I would.” he concedes. “...Is he nice?”

“Yeah, very. He was still really passionate about the show, too, even after all these years, which was… really nice. I liked getting the chance to meet him.” “Heh, he was, ah… surprised to meet a fan, I think, after the way everything went down.” Bruce runs his hand through his hair, messing it up a bit. “...Do you have time for one more?”

He checks his watch with a passive hum, frowning slightly. He didn’t want the evening to end, not yet...he was just getting warmed up to actually attending it. “Of course.” Edward chuckles, leaning back. Let them grouse: what are they going to do, blow their own cover, break in to yell at some socialite over cartoons? They could try and limit his time out in the future, as a punitive measure, but he could easily talk his way out of it...36 is too old for a curfew, after all. “Pick your favourite.”

His favorite is a mid-season special, it turns out, one a bit longer and twistier and more complicated than most, and one - judging by the fact that the label for the VHS is worn down to be unreadable, and seems to be on its second round of being relabeled - that he has watched easily a thousand times. This does nothing to curb his enthusiasm, and he barely notices as Alfred comes into the room with fruit and flavored water for them to eat, so enraptured he is with ‘One on One’.

Edward took all of this in with a private hum: so that’s what he looks like relaxed. Important to know, as it was night and day between this and the Gala. Attentive, alert, and still on VHS, although DVDs were certainly available for the latest format. Who could fault him, though? There was something extra special about wearing a tape down to ruins: it’s not the same if it’s too clean, too polished. It might not be the same as sitting on his living room floor, with an action figure and the official hat and cape, but it was as good as the heart could get. He smiles a bit, watching every familiar line, plot, motion, joke...seen it once, seen it a thousand times, but didn’t it speak of quality when you could gladly recite it, word for word, and love it all the same? The flavour in the water snaps him out of reverie, and oh thank you, some fruit would be nice.

Bruce is surprised by the snacks. “Oh..!” And looks about for a long-gone Alfred, sheepish and laughing. “Ah… well. I’ll thank him later, then.” This is mumbled more to himself, as he reaches for a slice of melon, settling back in wistful reverie. “It’s the best one, really. Or at least, I always thought it was.” he mumbles, smiling sideways at Edward. “By slim margin, I grant you, but… the best one, all the same. Which one did you like best?”

“The Doll Maker’s up there, as is Have A Heart. Both of them took the series briefly away from the standard format and made room for character depth: I could never really stick to any series that didn’t give the characters any actual motivations. It’s sloppy writing at best, especially if your protagonist doesn’t have any motivation beyond the shallow concept of justice.” says Edward, folding his hands in his lap. “One on One was longer, and allowed for a similar effect without sacrificing action: the best of both worlds, really.”

“Well... “ Bruce chuckles softly, looking over his collection. “Next time, we’ll watch those. Or, all of them, if you have time, I wouldn’t mind a marathon again, it’s been ages…” he softy laughs. “Ah… You were seriously hoping for the spa retreat?” This seems to be leading into something, but he’s awaiting an answer, first.

“Hm? Well, yes I _was_...that’s why I bet on it. Of course, I bet on some of those auctions just to drive up the price on everyone else, but that’s the one I would have actually liked.” Edward shrugs. “I’ve never been to a spa before, It seemed like a nice indulgence, after all that time in Arkham.”

“...Well, then, the least I can do is take you.” Bruce smiles, chuckling. “Your driving the prices up did a lot for charity, actually, and I really do appreciate that. Besides, they are nice, and - well, while you’re out, you know?” “Besides, if official invitations get you out of work, then consider this another one. My treat.” _This has been fun, after all_ , Bruce thinks to himself. _I wouldn’t mind doing it again._ “And I’m serious about the Gray Ghost marathon, too.”

Slowly, one of Edward’s brows rose, as he looked Bruce over with an unmistakable look of doubt. That’s a whole lot of friendly in one serving, for someone he’s met twice, who’s hoping to get to know him more...presumably. “What’s the catch?” he asks, plain and perhaps a touch bored. Of course there’d be one: nobody wants the good side of a rogue without asking for their skill.

...Slowly, Bruce blinks as he processes this. “I’d… hope you’d, talk to me? More? You’ve got a lot of fascinating things under your belt, and I find it really… interesting to talk to you?” he verbally stumbles. “Is it odd, to be, er, liked? ...Maybe it’s odd to be liked. No, I ah - I just, this was nice. And I know it’s not what you wanted, so….”

_**Smooth, Bruce.** Shut up. _

The disaffected look slowly contorts into bemusement, as Edward’s brow furrows to Bruce’s words. Setting aside the insinuation that he was somehow unlikable, this was getting awkward fast. Only one thing to do…

“Okay.” he says simply. “If you insist.” Free spa days are free spa days. Time out of the house is time out of the house. Talking to people was a pleasure. As long as the reward was good, he could play friendly with a bored rich guy.

At least Bruce looks properly mortified, and has sunk a bit into the couch. Yes, great job talking to the cute guy, _Bruce. You’re really ringing in a winner. **Jesus Christ.**_

...Plus side, he said yes? Bruce rubs his face with a faint grumble at himself, nodding. “Be glad to. Sorry, I don’t… get to talk to real people that much... I think I’m out of practice.” he mumbles.

Edward laughs a bit at the candid display, grinning easily. “Probably, but hey, so am I. I don’t get to talk to people normally that much myself.” He considers Bruce a moment. “What if we went in disguise or something?”

With a sudden snort, Bruce laughs at the idea, grinning. “Oh…Can I go as the Gray Ghost? You do wind up undressing for a massage, fair warning, but - that sounds like fun? I kind of want to, now? I just need some advanced notice.”

“HA! No, no...I mean with glue-on moustaches or something, coloured contacts, styling hair a different way… Just look like someone else for a day at the spa, so you don’t get the professional treatment, and I don’t get all kinds of stupid half-baked puns...and instead, we’re just regular patrons getting the works.” Edward offers, snickering. “It doesn’t take much to trick people: even false glasses would do.”

“Glasses, huh?” Bruce grins a bit, thinking back to Clark. Come to think of it, he’s not wrong…. “You have a point. If I skip the hair mousse and put on thick frames…” His grin grows. Oh, that just sounds fun. “Do people really throw half-baked puns at you? I mean… I know I do, but that’s mostly just trying to play along….” Couldn’t deny the ‘professional’ treatment, though.

“They _think_ they’re telling riddles, and dearly want to outsmart me, so they tend to ask vague questions with broad answers and count it as a victory.” Edward scoffs. “It’s just _obnoxious_. I’ll give credit where credit is due, and I haven’t heard them all...heck, one time a kid told me a new one he’d made and I gave him a hundred bucks. I like to _think_ I’m fair. But no, anyone who’s mistaken me for a proclaimed psychic tends to do that. Yours,” he adds, “are _terrible_ , and _painfully_ simple, but you aren’t telling them to try and get my goat, so I like them.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Bruce agrees, chuckling. “It’s just… fun, you know? I don’t know, it seemed like it’d be more entertaining to… try and return the puns, rather than just, going ‘Oh, I get it’.” He shrugs with a chuckle. “But… yeah, I can see that would get annoying. No one ever tells me anything honest, and that’s.. Hard to deal with sometimes. Hard to know where you stand with someone when all they want is to impress you.” After a soft, pensive sigh, Bruce looks back to Edward. “...So, thank you for not being like that.”

“Oh, _please_.” Edward chuckles, waving a hand in mellow dismissal. “Things like that are just for people who want something out of you, or don’t trust in their own worth. I’ve got what I want, and I like who I am: what’s the use of putting on airs? Playing along is preferable, sure, but nobody likes to be framed by assumption. ...Not a thing, though, _really_?”

“...Well, okay, Alfred is honest. But he’s known me since I was a kid. But - yeah, no, people generally try to tell me what they think I want to hear. Hopefully disguises will work.” Bruce chuckles. “It’d be nice to see how everyone else is treated, even if it’s just for a day. Kind of looking forward to this now, right? Plus, spa days are nice.”

“I’d imagine so. Should I look up what to expect, or just let life surprise me?” laughs Edward, setting down his now-drained glass. “Goodness, should I dye my hair for this?”

“Maybe temporarily, but I don’t recommend it. No dye bonds so fast that it wouldn’t bleed onto the technician’s hands if you got your hair washed, or…. damp. I can’t tell you which approach would make you happier, as far as research goes….” he ponders, smiling wryly. “No one knows you better than you, right? But I can tell you now, I’m going to be paying for full packages for both of us, not just a massage.”

“Ahhh, don’t tell me more, or else there’ll be no choice.” Edward hums, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “...Suppose I won’t dye it, then...I like the colour it is: everyone wants red hair, even if they can’t wear it.” he decides as he sits up. “What day?”

“..Which one’s most convenient? I can honestly make my own schedule, so… it is going to take the whole day, if that makes a difference.” Bruce says, as he tries not to sound too relieved. He really likes Edward’s hair, so… “...I can’t really imagine you as anything other than auburn anyway. It matches the whole green suit.”

“Probably, that’s true...though black hair goes with absolutely everything.” Edward corrects. “Why do you always wear brown suits, anyway, do you like them?”

“Ah… no, not specifically.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I just don’t like wearing the real black ones. Whenever I do, I feel like I wear too much black. It’s just for formal events, but… still.”

“Wear blue, then. It’d be something more cheerful: I know I said it at the party, but it’s still true. Something in a nice royal: start a trend or something.” says Edward plainly. It really _is_ that simple, in his eyes: do what you please.

“...Yeah, you did. You think? I mean - I’ll definitely look into it, I just never thought about it much, before you mentioned it, you know? I have fun with shirt colors…” He trails off, considering. “...Maybe on the spa day. Bit of an extra disguise, before I start wearing them to work.” “You never gave me a convenient day, aside.”

“Weekends are best, but if I’m skipping work, I’ll like a Wednesday best… a little break, mid-week, just to pick up in the lull.” Edward decides. “So, Wednesday. Let’s play hooky!”

Laugh. “All right, want an invitation letter so you can stick it to your employers or should I just come get you on the down low?”

“They _love_ paperwork. But it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission. Kidnap me!” he grins, laughing, a bright and cheery sound at last.

Bruce grins. “It’ll be my first time kidnapping, fair warning….” He laughs. “But yeah, all right. Wednesday. I’ll get everything booked and - be there around ten in the morning? I just need your address.” No sooner than asked, Edward neatly scrawls it onto a piece of note paper and passes it over with a nod. Bruce takes a moment to memorize it, vaguely surprised. Not what he would’ve… expected, but he supposes it has something to do with the mysterious employers that have the Riddler at their disposal. “...Well, want me to drive you home?” he asks, rising, and making his way to the door. All in all, he’s been a ridiculous, awkward and vaguely foot-in-mouth host, but it was… nice to be human for a change. And to meet another fan, and…. “And um. Thank you for coming.”

"Believe me, Mr Wayne, it's been a pleasure." smiles Edward, eyes narrow. "I look forward to conspiring."


End file.
